Addicted To You
by UndressTheseBeautifulLies
Summary: Years later, Spencer crosses paths with Toby in an unlikely way. Her life has never been perfect, but it had never been this far from it. Untrusting and miles away from Hastings standards, can Toby help her rebuild her life? And maybe, just maybe, rekindle old flames along the way. Spoby.
1. Chapter 1

_What a mess._

Sunken brown eyes stare at the holding cell wall, one half open, shadowed by a nasty bruise, another weighed down by a purple ring of sleeplessness. Her hand, shaking and covered in cuts, holds her drooping head as she watches the police officers file paperwork and attempt to ignore her glare burning into their backs. Her brunette hair flows limply in a messy ponytail and she looks miles away from the fresh faced, ready to rule the world young woman she once was. _Everyone grows up sometime._

But he recognizes her instantly anyway.

An officer walks in, face weary from a hard day's work. His gait is slower, burdened with unresolved problems and worries, and his shoulders are hunched, but he still looks the same. His blue eyes watch her for just a second - that's all it takes - and the memories hit in him a tsunami. His breath catches in his throat and by the time he can breathe again, it feels as if there's no air left in the room.

"It's almost midnight, Chief," another officer addresses him, and he tears his eyes away from her long enough to reply, feeling like a scared teenager again as he clears his throat.

"You can head home, officer. I'll take care of this one." He confirms, nodding her way and hoping that the crack in his voice wasn't evident in his speech. The confident chief falters for a moment, his gaze falling back on the woman as all of his worries melt away with only her on his mind.

"You want me to book her in?" The officer offers, tapping away at his computer eagerly. "I was the one who brought her in."

"No," he says, glancing at her once again, "I'm not booking her in." The woman's head snaps up at this comment, and before she realizes who she's talking to, she scoffs.

"Rosewood cops are still crooked, then," she retorts, her eyes narrowing. Both officers ignore her as she stares at them, barely daring to believe her own eyes. She barely blinks in the moments following, scared that he'd disappear.

"You sure, Chief?" The junior officer confirms, his forehead creasing in concern, for his boss always followed the law to the letter. His boss nods impatiently, and waves his hand to the door.

"You can leave now." He repeats, barely bothering to glance at his inferior. "And that's an order."

"Toby." The woman whispers, immediately after the door closes, signalling the other officer's exit. Her hands wrap around the bars of the holding cell, desperately clinging to her last shred of hope in a cold world and she watches him closely. His haircut may be different, and his clothes may indicate a higher position in the world, but the way he sighs to himself and the way he balls up his fists is a mirror image of the boy she left behind.

 _The boy whose heart she broke._

He struggles to look at her, so broken and vulnerable and so far away from the girl he remembered. Strong. Brave. Courageous. Caging her felt so wrong, for someone who fought so desperately for her freedom. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

 _Like blood on a butterfly's wing, acid on a red rose._

Toby shuffles the notes on the desk beside him, and murmurs to himself as he reads the reason for arrest. He glances up at her, an attempt at scorn on his features, "Possession of a controlled drug?" He asks, shaking his head. "Really, Spence?" He sighs as he throws the file down on his desk and she flinches.

A guilty expression clouds her features as she stares at him, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. When he can no longer bear to look at her shaking hands and rabbit-in-the-headlights eyes, he slams open the door and stands aside. "I'm not letting you go to prison for this." He shakes his head angrily, like he always used to, and Spencer doesn't move. "I have some paperwork to do, but then we'll go home."

 _Home._

She starts at the word. Within seconds she has recovered and a false bravado is in place of the vulnerability. "Are you kidnapping me?" Spencer asks, her sense of humour shining through even in times of crisis. "Because I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"So is possession." He counters back, sounding unimpressed. "But the Spencer I know would rather be kidnapped than have a blemish on her record. What happened to her?"

"Well," Spencer replies, absently ripping a hangnail from her finger and letting the blood drip, "She grew up." Her eyebrow raises at him as he tries not to make her overly self-conscious by staring at her, though taking his eyes off of her is proving difficult. He shakes his head and puts down the paper he's scanning.

"I'll do the paperwork tomorrow," he sighs, filing the papers away in a cabinet.

"Don't let me stop you," she remarks, leaning against the bars of the cell and reaching for a cigarette from the desk of the junior officer. With trembling hands, she attempts to light the cigarette, and fails pitifully a couple of times before succeeding. After taking a long drag from it, she stares at him again. "I never did before."

He doesn't reply, but shows his feelings towards her statement by snatching the cigarette from her fingers and stubbing it out. She stares blankly, and half of him had hoped that his actions would get a rise out of her. Instead, she shivers in her mini skirt, her skinny arms and legs scattered with goosebumps. "Where did you come from?" He asks, frowning at her outfit. Her feet were covered in blisters, the heels she'd once worn kicked off to the corner of her cell.

She smirks – an infuriating, smug smirk that forms on her face, causing the blood to rush to his face in a blush that only she could ever bring out. "Not a street corner, if that's what you're thinking." She rolls her beautiful eyes and he winces.

"You could have done great things," he says quietly, beginning to stand. She moves away from him, a self-defensive action that hurts him, as if he'd ever do anything to cause her any harm.

"No," she snaps. " _Spencer Hastings_ could have done those things." She spits out the name like a dirty word, and shakes her head, her ponytail swishing behind her. She bites the nail on her finger, and frowns at the floor. "I haven't been her in a long time." He watches her as she watches him, regarding him as a threat, and shakes his head again. How couldn't she see? He wondered.

Her mind was still always working. Her wit was still sharp as a tack. She was still as brave, as strong, as courageous as she was before. She was just a little off-track.

And as he watched her, he was sure he could put Spencer Hastings back on the right track.


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer slips her shoes back on wordlessly as he waits by the door for her, mentally thinking of what they could possibly talk about on the way back to his house. It wasn't that he had nothing to say – far from it. He had a million thoughts swirling around in his head, and if he knew Spencer, he knew the moment he asked any single one of them would be the moment she would look him straight in the eye and tell a barefaced lie.

Her head spins as she attempts to walk a straight line towards him without stumbling. Spencer gingerly touches her head as she winces, and he offers his arm for her to steady herself on. "It's not that long of a walk," he says, almost apologetically, as she stubbornly refuses his offer. Spencer groans inwardly, but keeps her face blank.

"We have to _walk?_ " Spencer asks, disbelief seeping into her scathing tone. "Do they not pay you enough?" Her speech is quick – too quick, even for her – and he cringes.

"My apartment isn't that far away." He repeats, opening the door for her. He glances at her blistered feet, an eyebrow raising. "Maybe if you chose more practical shoes for the night, then you'd be okay."

A small smile skimps her features for a moment, daring to taint her scornful expression, and she looks up at him, looking exhausted. "Don't you remember that party we went to?" She asks, her guard slipping for just a moment as she reminisces. "I loved those shoes," she says quietly, scraping her current stiletto on the dirty sidewalk.

"Your feet didn't, when they started to bleed," Toby reminds her, a small smile creeping on his face as he remembers her hobbling along the sidewalk, grimacing, hanging grimly onto his arm for support. Spencer bites her lip as she shakes her head at him.

"It didn't matter. The piggyback all the way home is what made that a memorable night." He shakes his head this time - in disbelief.

"Every night is memorable with you, Spence." He motions for her to walk as she stares at him, and exhales deeply through his nose. No piggybacks are offered as he starts to walk home, letting her trail behind, feet bleeding. "Let's get going."

Spencer shrugs as she follows behind him, even though he can't see her, and totters on her high heels as she attempts to keep up with him.

 _After-all, it was Cinderella's glass slipper that led her back to her Prince._

Toby opens the door to his apartment with a flourish, the flick of a switch flooding bright light into the room. He steps in first, and closes the door behind Spencer as she tentatively steps into the room. "It's not much." He remembers Spencer's house as a teen, her barn in the backyard, and how she always had a credit card if interior design was on her mind that day. "I never did like decorating, like you."

Spencer smiles sadly, running her finger over the frames hanging on the wall. "I don't either. Not anymore," she admits, somewhat stiffly. Her gaze falls to carpet where she trains her eyes. "It was always more Melissa's thing, anyway. She was always better than me." Spencer frowns, a little wrinkle of concern creasing her forehead. She closes her eyes for a moment, and Toby almost reaches out to her, losing all anger and resentment, and forgetting the years that had passed.

Almost. The most devastating word.

Her chin wobbles, and the vulnerability shines through her hardened persona. Her hand covers her mouth as she attempts to trap the escaping sobs. "Spencer," he says, surprising even himself with his gentle tone, "That wasn't your fault."

"I was driving too fast. The music was too loud. We were _arguing."_ Her eyes screw up tighter as she shakes her head emphatically, as if trying to shake the memory right out of her head. "Try telling my parents it wasn't my fault."

"Silence and driving under the limit doesn't stop black ice from wrecking your car," Toby argues. He rubs the back of his neck. He had never realized how much the accident had affected her; how much she blamed herself. Tear slip from her closed eyes and she scrapes her hair back. "You were in hospital for months yourself."

"Melissa was DOA. That's what they told me. Never stood a chance. I can still see her blood when I pass that road, even now." With that, Spencer's openness suddenly snapped shut and she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I don't want to be in your way," she says lamely. With no emotion, gratitude or otherwise, and as an afterthought she adds, "Thanks for not locking me up."

Her eyes, still glistening with tears, don't quite meet his. He takes off his hat, placing it on the coffee table in the middle of the room, and sits down on his armchair, staring up at her. "You're not going anywhere," he says flatly. "You're in trouble, and you need help." The word help makes her visibly recoil and she glares at him, but he continues nonetheless. "You can leave any time you want," he tells her, and she immediately heads for the door, "But if you do, we have warrant for your arrest at any time."

"I studied law." Spencer counters. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying. I didn't say it was legal. I said that's how it's going to be." Toby says, his voice even. Spencer's glare hardens as she listens to him, her nails marking half-moons of blood into her palms, though she doesn't seem to notice. Her hands still trembling, she narrows her eyes as she reaches for the door handle. "I'm warning you, Spence. I don't break promises like some people."

Her sharp intake of breath tells him that he's hit a raw nerve, and her hand drops back to her side. "Why are you doing this?" She hisses. Her voice cracks, making her sound much less threatening, and she sinks down to sit on his couch. He doesn't respond to this, but hands her a fluffy blanket from the linen cupboard and points to a door on the other side of the room.

"You can sleep in the second bedroom." He tells her.

As she stands in the bathroom, brushing her teeth with a toothbrush he'd given her, Spencer stares at herself in the mirror. Where had she imagined herself now, at sixteen? She didn't know.

 _Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the messed up of them all?_

Toby's old faded T-shirt hangs off of her skin loosely and it takes her back to all those times so many years ago where she'd be standing in his kitchen, in a different apartment, wearing nothing but his old T-shirts. The memory brought a small, forlorn smile to her face. And then she ruins the moment by carefully and silently sliding open the medicine cabinet. Various bottles of aspirin and other generic painkillers litter the shelves and she exhales and scratches the side of her neck in frustration. Angry red marks begin to appear and she taps her hand on the side of the sink, throwing her toothbrush into the cup.

She hadn't really thought he would have anything like Adderall, but she had hoped. Now all her hope was in shreds at her bleeding feet and she couldn't stop the pathetic tears from pooling in her eyes. She covers her face with her hands and rests her elbows on the sink, breathing in deeply and trying to compose herself before she exits.

A knock on the door pulls her from her self-destructive thoughts, and she glances to the door. She wants to fall to the ground; her legs feel far too weak and her head spins, but she doesn't feel tired physically. Mentally, she is exhausted and this shows in the rings under her eyes and the pale sallowness of her skin.

"Spencer, are you okay in here?" Toby asks softly, knocking once again. Spencer takes a deep breath and slams shut the medicine cabinet. With that sound, Toby opens the door to a guilty looking Spencer. Before he can ask anything, she wipes her tears and gives a rushed explanation.

"I…I had a headache." Spencer lies. Not seeing the point in arguing with her – nothing would get through to her when she was like this, he knew that; anything he said would be refused vehemently and she would clam up even further – Toby nods wordlessly, and gently takes her arm, guiding her to her new sleeping quarters.

Toby yawns as he opens up the door, letting her through and lifting up the covers on the bed for her to climb into. Whilst part of her remains irritated by her newly found house arrest, the other half just wants to _sleep,_ even if she knew this was unlikely to happen tonight. He pulls the covers over her as she stares at him. As he walks out and switches out the light, she lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes glisten with tears and she wonders how she even got into this huge mess.

Meanwhile, outside of her door, Toby hovers, his hand on the doorknob. He doesn't know what to do for the best, but he reassures himself that by threatening her, he's doing the right thing, even if she doesn't know it yet. He sighs to himself and tears himself away from the door, heading for the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he takes away the various orange bottles and painkillers. He feels torn over whether he should, but, as he clears away the rest he reassures himself that it's better to be safe than sorry, a motto he uses every day in his policing.

Finally, once he thinks that the house is Spencer proofed, he retires to his own bed, knowing that he would have a mostly sleepless night.


	3. Chapter 3

The shrill, cruel sound of his morning alarm going off is what wakes Toby up at 5am the next morning, and he immediately shuts it off, cursing himself for forgetting to switch it off. He listens carefully for any signs of movement in the apartment, and on hearing nothing, he relaxes. The first thing he does is call up the station, grabbing his phone from his bedside table and tapping the memorised number in. He drums his fingers on the table as he hears the dialling tone, impatiently wondering why no-one was picking up the phone. Eventually, a frazzled officer gabbles out a rushed, "Hello?"

"I won't be able to make it in today." Toby barks down the phone. "Tell Stephens he's in charge." With that, he throws his phone down onto the bed and pads out into the living room, where a surprising sight welcomes him. Spencer sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the couch. He watches warily for a moment, wondering if she's asleep. But when she quietly reaches for her phone that rests on the coffee table, he knows she's not. Still, he wonders how to proceed. She looked so peaceful, miles away from the twitchy and suspicious figure that she was yesterday night and he didn't want her to have to retreat back to her guarded persona. He's only standing there for a moment but it's like time freezes, and he's there for an eternity, watching over her, like he promised he always would.

But this time, when she notices him, he doesn't smile or kiss her gently, he fills the coffee pot and leans on the sideboard. And she doesn't give a lazy smile or whine that she wants coffee, she simply looks at the floor and lets her hair fall in front of her eyes, not giving anything away. He sighs and pours two cups of coffee, his own, and hers – two sugars, no milk, just like always. She looks up at his offering when he hands it over to her, and grips the mug tightly in her cold hands. She sips the coffee and finally a small smile emerges from her lips.

"What?" Toby asks, swigging his own coffee like it wasn't roasting hot. He was always used to rushing in the morning, it was nice to be able to take it slow, even if he needed his coffee before he could function. Spencer pulls her legs up to her chest and rests her chin on her knees.

"You remembered," Spencer answers, indicating to her coffee. He nods easily, feeling a little more human now he had woken up properly. He wanted to tell her that he remembered absolutely everything; that nothing she had done or told him had escaped unnoticed. He settles for a small nod, and a lie.

"It's the same as I take mine. Hard to forget." Spencer looks up as he says this. When she doesn't say anything to correct him, he moves on, pushing down the feelings of hurt that she doesn't remember like he does. She always was too busy to stop and make him a coffee, after all. He moves on, sitting down on the couch opposite to her so he was still facing her. "I took the day off," he tells her, "This is more important than work right now."

"How do you figure that?" Spencer asks quietly, her eyes glassy and blank. "Your career has always been more important; what gives?" Toby glares at her, his temper rising.

"What _gives?"_ Toby yells, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell me, Spencer, why are you doing this?" He shakes his head, his eyes hard. Spencer glares up at him, forgetting all about her coffee for the first time ever.

"I don't have to tell you anything, I'm not your suspect." Spencer angrily retorts, her fists balling up at her sides as she stands up. "And I'm nothing to you anymore, so why are _you_ doing this?"

"Because I'm worried about you!" Toby replies, sounding exasperated. "You're shaking like a leaf, you're thinner than I have ever seen you, you have a black eye, and you look like you haven't slept in a month."

"Maybe I haven't," Spencer counters, feeling her heart quickening. She exhales deeply, and perches on the couch across from him. "You don't need to worry about me," she tells him. "I'm okay."

"You're taking Adderall again." Toby accuses. Spencer starts guiltily, rubbing the back of her hand nervously. "I'm guessing that was what they took from you in the police station." Spencer frowns at him.

"They had no right to do that." Spencer glowers. Then she laughs humorlessly, rubbing her temples. "Even A gave me Adderall when I needed it."

" _Even_ A?" Toby asks incredulously. "A was never your friend!"

"Nor are you." Spencer says tiredly, sighing despite her anger. "Just let me go, Toby." He shakes his head in anger. "

"I told you, all those years ago, that I would always protect you. That I would always be there for you when you needed me." He glances at her, and takes her hand, preventing it from shaking. "And you may not want my help, you might not even think you need it, but I'm not going to let you throw your life away because you're angry or sad or indifferent to the world." Spencer looks up and takes her hand away from him, wringing her fingers together. "That promise still stands. That promise will _always_ stand."

She nods, but doesn't say anything. He takes that as a good sign. Nothing lost, nothing gained. He stands, and, finishing the rest of his coffee, pulls her up as well. "Come on," he says.

"Where are we going?" Spencer asks warily, her stance guarded and her expression not giving anything away.

"For breakfast." Toby explains, a small smile on his face. "Get dressed and we'll go to _Maggie's."_ Spencer frowns at him, her eyebrow raised.

"That's an ice-cream parlour." Spencer notes. "You still have a sweet tooth, then."

"And you still like sundaes for breakfast?" Toby grins, remembering all those late Saturday breakfasts that _Maggie's_ had provided them, the only ones ever there, sitting in their favorite booth watching the world go by. "You can fill me in on what you've been up to." He says, suddenly serious. "And then we can make a game plan."

Spencer groans inwardly, all her joy at thinking about the parlour and their Saturdays gone. A game plan for her life. Teenage Spencer would be screaming, she thought. On the outside, she nods, crossing her arms over her chest protectively, guarded once again.

"A game plan sounds good." She says, not wanting to admit that anything with him would sound good. He offers her a goofy smile once again, and goes to get dressed. Spencer watches him leave. For the first time in a long time, she feels hope.

And though her heart is still beating too fast, and her life and head are still messed up, something inside her says that things are looking a little brighter, even if she is under a twisted sort of house arrest. She smiles to herself. She's been through a lot worse than having Toby at her side 24/7. In fact, she could think of a lot worse. She smiles to herself. One step at a time, she thinks.

First step: Breakfast with Toby.

 **A/N:**

 **Hey! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. :)  
I hope to continue to update regularly, so check back or follow for more updates soon.  
\- Caitlin**


	4. Chapter 4

The ring of the bell on top of the door gives the place an air of familiarity and Spencer can't help but smiling as Toby holds the door for her. "Same as always?" Spencer asks, meaning she ordered and he grabbed their booth. Toby nods amicably, gently touching her arm as he goes to sit down. Spencer smiles as she looks around. Nothing had changed; nothing but their situation.

She looks at the menu needlessly as she orders, "One hot fudge sundae and one fresh fruit sundae, please. And two coffees. One two sugars, no milk. One one sugar, a splash of milk."

The waitress smiles. "Haven't seen you in a while," she comments, scribbling the order down. "Though it would have been nicer if you didn't have the shiner." Spencer covers her eye with her hand self-consciously and shrugs apologetically. She raises her eyebrow at Spencer's lack of response. "Don't remember me?" Spencer bites her lip. Finer details of events and places had eroded with time and had gotten fuzzier with every pill she took and every hour of sleep she lost. "That's alright, honey," she laughs. "I'll bring your orders over. Go catch up with your pretty eyes." Spencer smiles sadly, leaning on the counter.

"I don't think he's mine anymore," she admits. "He's more my parole officer than anything," she says dryly. The waitress gives Spencer's arm a little hit, and Spencer bites back the flinching reflex she'd developed over time.

"If he's not in love, I'd love to see who else brings someone to an ice cream parlour for breakfast, just because."

Spencer sighs, still unconvinced. "Maybe a couple of years ago. Too much has passed. There's so much water under the bridge we could drown."

"Water doesn't just drown. It cleanses." The waitress notes. Then she repeats, "I'll bring them over, honey."

Spencer nods and heads over to the booth, sliding into her seat next to the window. Even the view hadn't changed. It was both comforting and crushing simultaneously as she watched the birds fly past and the world begin to wake up. Toby glances up from his phone and places it on the table. He clears his throat, unable to think of the words to start off the conversation.

 _How are you?_ That, to him, seemed superfluous. He knew exactly how she was, and she wasn't very well. To ask, and expect an honest answer, seemed cruel. Instead, he says, "A lot of time has passed."

"Hmm," Spencer muses. "Too much, maybe." Toby raises his eyebrow as he watches her staring out of the window, the light hitting her cheekbones that jutted out too far now, but still managing to make her appear like she's stepped off of the cover of a magazine. That is, if she didn't have a black eye and her cheeks weren't sunken like she'd starved herself. "I killed someone."

Toby looks up and holds her gaze for a moment. "I have, too," he says, his voice full with regret. Spencer stares blankly at him, only looking away when the waitress brings over their coffees. Both go untouched as the two lock eyes.

"The person you killed – was it Jenna?" Spencer asks, though of course she knows the answer. Toby frowns at her, and then shakes his head.

"Of course not. Why?"

"She's the closest you have to a sister," Spencer shrugs. "So once you've killed her, then get back to me."

"Jenna isn't my sister." Toby grips his cup tightly, staring out the window. His knuckles turn white. "She never was and never will be." His words sound firm, and she nods.

"Fine." Spencer says, picking up her own coffee. She takes a sip and instantly screws up her face, her nose wrinkling. "This is yours," she says, passing it to him. He passes hers over and takes a mouthful of his.

He smiles. _One sugar, a splash of milk._ She had remembered, after all. The sundaes arrive after a short wait, and Spencer immediately picks her spoon up, taking a mouthful of cream. After a long time, the cream tasted even sweeter than ever and she closed her eyes, savoring the taste. Old habits die hard, and Toby automatically picks the cherry off of the top of his sundae and places it on her plate. Spencer simply raises her eyebrow and picks up the cherry by its stem, twirling it playfully before placing it in her mouth. "Manage to tie a knot in it?" Toby teases. When they used to come, that was always her goal. She never managed it, and would always tell him that she'd get it next time. For a brief moment, he wonders if he knew, the last time they spent time together here, if it would be years later till they got to do it again. He doubted it.

She sticks her tongue out to reveal an untied cherry stem. "Nope." He sighs, and stares at her, suddenly serious.

"You could have done so many things." He says. She nods solemnly, her lips pressed together.

"Yes, if only I had learned to tie a knot with a cherry stem," she concludes. Toby shakes his head in frustration, banging his fist on the table.

"How can you not _care?"_ He pleads with her. "Tell me what happened."

"We'll need a long time." Spencer says flatly, no emotion present in her voice or on her face. "It seems my life has been a spiral since my glory days."

"Don't be so dramatic, Spence. You're in your twenties. There's plenty of time to turn your life around. Besides, what went so wrong after high school? You got into a good college." He sighs, the pain evident in his voice. "Then everything went wrong. You left me." Spencer looks away, the tears forming in her eyes. "Tell me, please. I can help."

Spencer sighs deeply, covering her hand with her mouth. "I guess you could say it all started to go wrong just before the accident…"


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer's knuckles turn white as she wrings her hands, a nervous habit she'd never managed to kick. Toby places his hand over hers, and she gives him a tight smile. "You don't have to tell me. I know how hard reliving these things are. But I'd really like it if you wanted to."

Spencer bites her lip. "I _want_ to tell you," she admits, glancing out of the window once again. Her eyes trail over the town, watching the day begin. She had always been an early riser; even as a little girl, she would always be the one to see the sun rise and to wish she could be the birds that flew over her house, going wherever they felt like. "It's just too difficult," she dismisses, and the sharpness of her words tell him that she's not going to change her mind. She stares at the town outside, looking at all the things that had changed. Her eyes land on _Lucky Leon's Cupcakes._ She can't help the smile that forms on her lips, and she looks at Toby. "I can't believe that shop is still there."

"Why not?" Toby smiles. In high school, it had been everyone's favorite store to spend hours after school in, and he had seen in his work patrolling the neighborhood that it was almost a rite of passage for the Rosewood High kids.

"Because when Hanna turned fourteen, she stopped going," Spencer laughs, "And I'm surprised they didn't go out of business." Though she laughs, she feels a stab of anger. Anger at Alison for making Hanna feel as if she couldn't even look in the direction of _Leon's_ and anger that none of them stood up to her. She had forgiven Alison a long time ago, but she still looked back at some of those memories sadly. Spencer sighs, the smiling slipping from her face. "I miss them." She shakes her head, looking as if she was trying to shake the memory from her brain, and looks to Toby again.

"I know," he says quietly. "They asked after you, you know." Spencer's head snaps up from her sundae, and she considers whether he's telling the truth.

"They have their own lives to lead. After A, they just wanted to move on." She sniffs, pushing the fruit around her bowl but leaving most of it untouched. "I don't blame them." She looks to her hands, wringing them together and watching her knuckles turn white again. The last few years had been like a game of dominoes for her. She had watched one thing in her life fall, and by the time she'd watched everything in that aspect of her life crumble to nothing, the next part was already half fallen.

"You had your own life, too." Toby reminds her. "They didn't just leave one day. All of you had everything planned out."

"Maybe so," Spencer says wistfully, absently picking at a hangnail on her finger, "But last time I saw any of them was at Aria's wedding, and that was a few years ago." Spencer rubs the back of her neck agitatedly, finally letting the emotion show. Like an injured animal, she had repressed all signs of any pain or hurt, and it had built inside of her with no release.

Toby watches her, his expression clouding. He hated the fact that anything dared to hurt her, and that the girl with the world at her feet was left crawling on her knees for so long. "Let's go," Toby offers, beginning to stand. He throws a twenty on the table and pulls her up gently by her arm, more of an encouraging gesture than anything else. She tugs her arm away with a flinch and slopes to the door just behind him.

"Where are we going?" Spencer murmurs. Toby turns to look at her, and upon noticing the even darker rings under her eyes, and the way her eyes darted anxiously at the town outside, he offers her a sympathetic smile. Spencer squirms under his gaze, and finally he relents.

"Home," he says simply. The word still makes her stomach lurch but she nods wordlessly. Home, even if she could only pretend it was hers, sounded good right now. "Is that okay?" Spencer nods again, letting him lead her out of the door.

"Fine," she whispers. He smiles again, and walks next to her as they find their way back to his apartment.

When they reach his apartment, he sits down to some paperwork whilst Spencer rests on the couch, her eyelids growing heavy for the first time in a long time. The feeling made her feel vulnerable and she fights sleep, instead choosing to watch Toby writing his reports.

Toby sighs as his pen hovers in the air over the paper. He'd already written the wrong word three times, distracted by Spencer sitting so closely to him but acting so distantly. Finally, he puts his pen down and shakes his head. Spencer watches him curiously, feeling so lost as to what to say. She wanted to tease him; to tell him that he'd not turned the page for at least ten minutes. Instead, unsure of herself, she says nothing and lets the silence hang in the air, a suffocating emptiness resounding on the walls.

Toby feels unsure himself, though he covers his doubt with a smile and pushes down the sense of familiar longing with thoughts of how the station was doing without him. He glances at Spencer. The black eye still looked as fresh as the night before. Her hair was limp, falling just below her shoulders. Her eyelids flutter as she desperately tries to stay awake, and he sighs quietly. "I need to go down to the station." He tells her. Spencer nods. This alone frustrates Toby, and he wonders where the head of the debate club had lost her tongue.

He stands. "I think it's best if you come with me," he says stiffly, trying not to sound accusatory. Spencer frowns, wincing as she disturbs the bruise on her face. "And I think we should get that seen to." Spencer shakes her head. "Here's the deal – you don't have to come if you promise to go to the hospital tomorrow with me."

Through her scowl, she nods. "Fine," she spits out. "Just go."

"Do you promise that you won't go?" Toby asks worriedly. Spencer glances at him, her poker face suddenly hiding any true expression, and nods. "Spencer Hastings doesn't break a promise." He reminds her as he heads for the door. She nods at his back, waits for the door to close.

And then she stands too, shaking her head angrily. "Too bad Spencer Hastings disappeared a long time ago."


	6. Chapter 6

"Please," Spencer says tersely, her hands shaking as she offers the five-dollar bill to the man next to her. She scrapes her hair back with the other hand, and pushes the bill forward. "This is all I have right now, but I can get more, I just-"

"Don't waste my time, Hastings. I've had enough trouble dealing with you in the past. And it's not even the good stuff you're after, it's _Adderall_ ," he spits out the last word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, shaking his head. "Go back to your mansion, get clean, and act like the person your high school guidance counsellor thought you were."

Spencer glares at him, shoving the five dollars into her jean pocket carelessly. "You have no idea about my life." She cringes despite herself, thinking about how ridiculously pretentious she sounded, complaining about her life whilst trying to haggle for drugs in a dark alleyway, her feet protected by her new designer high heels. Still, she continues, "I need this."

No-one had come to close to knowing how Adderall made her feel. There are few things in life that you can truly control, but when it came to the rush she felt with Adderall, the feeling that not A or anyone else would be able to tear her down, that was simple – one little pill. But of course, one turned to two, and two turned to three, and soon she had lost count and was screaming in an empty apartment at an empty medicine bottle.

"Well, for once in your life you'll have to go without." He walks away from her, his head still shaking, as her hands reach out into the space where he once was, where the Adderall was so close to being hers. She sank down, her back scraping against the wall of the alley. As she attempted to gather her thoughts, she remembered when she'd last been in this exact spot. Her mouth quirks into a smile despite her former desperation, and her hand brushes the ground gently, like it would break. The last time she'd been sat there was more than a decade ago.

 _A pair of eyes peek out from the wall, a giggle escaping from the little girl's lips as she settles down into her hiding place. Their mother was at a conference, and their father was supposed to be watching them. Needless to say, he wasn't doing a very good job as his daughters trekked around town, playing a risky game of Hide and Seek. Spencer smirked; she had always loved this game, because she always won._

 _Melissa, who had been searching for at least ten minutes by this point, began to give up. "Spence?" She called out half-heartedly. It wasn't long before hide and seek was forgotten by the older, less patient Hastings sister, in favour of hopscotch with her friends._

 _It was dark before anybody noticed, and before Melissa remembered. The stars were her only friend until her mother finally found her behind a dumpster, curled up and freezing, and led her home in a silence that was cooler than the ground she'd been laying on. "What did you think you were doing, Spencer?" Her father had asked with a frown once they'd both walked in the front door._

 _Her answer was simple. "I was winning."_

Spencer was smiling and crying by the time she'd remembered the rest of the story, her memory hazy but still forceful enough to knock the breath out of her. And here she was, years later, still in the same hiding spot. There was still a shred of hope, deep down, that her sister was still playing hopscotch, that she'd simply been forgotten, instead of the cold reality that her sister would never get the chance to forget her, or anything, again.

She heaved a sigh. That was the thing about grief; it didn't come at convenient times, it came in harsh waves that knocked you off of your feet. It wiped the smile from your lips when you remember the strangest little detail. It was the knot in your stomach that never really went away, just loosening and tightening depending on the situation.

Spencer allowed herself one more moment of melancholy before pushing herself up and wiping the tears from her face, mostly because she was hearing a noise coming from the other side of the alley, nearing closer to her with every step. She cringed as she sidled closer, watching a couple get a little too intimate with each other for her liking.

Waves of blonde hair tumbled down the girl's shoulders, which were being caressed by rough hands that roamed freely. The hands cup the woman's face, and Spencer winces as a pair of blue eyes stare directly into hers. _"Spence?"_ The woman says, pushing the man away from her with a careless shove. She glares at him as he fiddles with the buttons on her shirt. "Seriously? I'm a little busy."

"So were we," the man complains, shaking his head. "I'll call you." Spencer watches cautiously as he walks away, leaving the two women in the filthy alley, biting her lip.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You've been gone for years now. Why come back?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I haven't been gone. Just not around." Spencer counters with a sigh. Then, without wanting it to, a smile appears on her face. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. Now get up." Spencer frowns.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't had a cupcake from Leon's in way too long and I'm starving," she says with a laugh that sounds so real Spencer can't help but smile.

"You haven't changed a bit, Hanna Banana." Spencer says, not knowing whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

"I have," Hanna says with a smile, "But this?" She links her arm with Spencer's, leading her to Leon's and leaning onto her, just like old times. "This'll never change."

 **A/N:**

 **I know I haven't updated in ages. I had exams, and then more exams, and then started a new year at school, and then I was just lazy. But now I wanted to update it as I watched the latest season. Hope you like it.**


	7. Chapter 7

Hanna sips a coffee as she tears a chunk of donut from the plate in front of her. Powdered sugar covers her mouth. Spencer smiles as she watches the blonde. Her unabashedness had always been something she'd admired. "So," Hanna says, her blue eyes bright. "What have you been up to?"

The ugly bruise on her left cheek hadn't escaped her, but from the guarded way Spencer clutched her coffee and stared out of the window, she knew it wasn't the right time to ask about it. Spencer shrugs, ripping a sugar packet into a hundred little pieces. A deep sigh escapes from her lips. "Not so much these days."

Hanna nods, taking another swig from her own iced coffee. It felt wrong to be having small talk with a girl she'd been through so much with, but there was an awkwardness she hadn't managed to cut through yet. She hesitated, but felt the need to ask the question anyway. "How are your parents?"

Spencer stops making patterns in the spilled sugar. She brushes her hands off, slowly and deliberately, and shrugs again. The lack of the word 'family' stuck out to her. She didn't _have_ a family anymore, because she'd decimated it. "They're broken."

"Spence," Hanna says. She reaches out to take her hand, but Spencer instead wraps it around the hot mug. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

Spencer swallows hard. Changing the subject before the tears fell seemed to be the right thing to do. She picks at the vanilla cupcake in front of her, despite having no appetite. "How are you and Caleb?"

Hanna stiffens. "You couldn't guess?"

Spencer tears her gaze away from the window and people watching to look Hanna in the eye. Her mind casts back to the guy in the alleyway, the hands pawing at Hanna's shirt that definitely _weren't_ Caleb's. "Yeah, I could guess. That was a crappy thing to ask. When did you guys break up?"

This time, it was Hanna who didn't look at Spencer. Instead, she swirls her coffee around. "We're not broken up."

Spencer raises an eyebrow. But she was in no position to judge, and as she downs the last of her coffee, she gestures for Hanna to continue.

"He's always gone," Hanna admits. "He got this job and he's doing so _well."_ Spencer can hear the pride in her voice, and wonders where it all went wrong for the both of them. "He's got this pretty assistant."

"Oh," Spencer says. Despite all of her intelligence, that was the only answer she could muster.

"Yeah," Hanna continues. She blinks back tears. "I don't think they've ever done anything...he always says how much he loves me," she admits guiltily. "But she's so smart _and_ she's gorgeous. You know who she reminds me of?"

"Ali?" Spencer guesses.

Hanna laughs despite her eyes glistening with tears. She shakes her head. "No, but close. She reminds me of Kate."

"Oh, Han," Spencer says after a moment. "You're smart and funny. And Caleb loves _you."_

"Maybe," Hanna says. "But it doesn't always feel like it. After we lost the baby...well, I think I lost myself."

"I'm so sorry," Spencer says. Her problems felt petty when she thought of the life Hanna and Caleb had created, the life they'd imagined that had fallen apart in front of them. "You need to talk to him."

"I know." Hanna sips the last of her coffee and finishes the donut. Her eyes focus on the anxious figure in the doorway and she nods towards him. "I think I see someone you need to talk to."

Spencer's eyes follow Hanna's gaze, and she groans when she clocks him. "How the hell…?"

"Spencer," Toby called breathlessly. The way she flinched when he called her name made his heart ache for her.

"Why are you here?" Spencer says, coming to a stand. Her untouched cupcake sat on the plate behind her, a contrast to Hanna's finished donut. Clearly her skeletal figure wasn't due to a fast metabolism as she'd reassured her dad countless times. Her heart thuds but she ignores it, and she shoves her hands into her pockets to hide the fact that they're shaking.

Toby watches her for a moment. "The guys wanted donuts," he says. The lie slips from his lips easier than he'd liked it to have, but she doesn't believe it anyway. She could always tell when he was lying; his lips quirked.

Her eyes pierced through him. One clenched fist remained by her side, the other hand scraped through messy hair. "That's bull. Since when does the chief do donut runs?"

Toby was stumped. Another lie and she'd probably storm out, but he didn't want to betray Hanna by telling her the truth, that she'd let him know she was there. "What are you _really_ doing here?" Spencer demanded. Despite her problems, her mind was still as sharp as a tack.

"Looking for _you,"_ Toby says, anger in his tone. It was always her, why didn't she know that by now? His nostrils flared but he sat down on one of the stools at the counter to appear less threatening. Her defenses were up, and he knew it. "What happened? You promised, Spence."

Hanna chews her lip behind them. Though it had felt like the right thing to do, she was beginning to regret her decision to text Toby when Spencer had been in the bathroom. She looked angrier than she'd seen in a long time. But Toby had sounded desperate when he'd called, and she knew he'd called everyone. And the bruises that lined Spencer's face said that she needed help, help that Hanna couldn't give.

"I don't owe you anything!" Spencer snaps. "Where have you been all these years, huh?" Spencer asks. She didn't care that people were staring or that the waitress had paused in pouring a coffee. Blind rage was all that consumed her, because it was easier to be angry than it was to be broken, and she felt like everything was falling apart around her. "When I was lying in hospital? When I _needed_ you?"

Toby's breathing falters, his breath catching in his throat. "You know I wanted to be there." He takes off his hat and scrapes his hand through his hair. "And maybe you don't owe me anything, but damn it, you owe it to yourself."

Spencer opens her mouth, but Toby cuts her off.

"And you know who else you owe it to?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer. "Melissa, because she can't live her life and you're throwing yours away."

The brunette's eyes fill with tears. "I know," she whispers. Despite the crowd, she only sees Toby. "And I'm trying and trying but I keep seeing myself slipping back in how I was before. Every pill makes it a little blurrier...but like I can see straight again." She shakes her head. "You wouldn't get it. No-one does."

He nods. "I'm trying, you know that."

Hanna stands up behind Spencer, hovering nervously. But timid had never been something Hanna was, and she rubs Spencer's shoulder. "You need help, Spence."

Spencer puts her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Her body felt weak and her mind felt weaker. "Okay," she relented. She laughs through the tears that fell. "But I'm a mess, Toby. It's not gonna be easy."

Toby reached out for her hand, and although the touch felt foreign, she didn't pull away. "When is it ever with us?"


End file.
